


give me your dragon's heart

by eversall



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:26:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eversall/pseuds/eversall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vilkas has never wanted someone quiet as badly, and he glares at her because who is this Dragonborn to intrude on this part of his life? Who is she, carrier of dragon souls, to look at him and make him feel like turning his soul over to her as well?</p>
            </blockquote>





	give me your dragon's heart

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck. so my friend started playing skyrim and I thought it looked really cool so I started playing it too (yeah, yeah, I'm late to the game whatever) and guess what I discover when looking shit up about skyrim????? YOU CAN MARRY NPCS what the hell. you can't expect to give me that option and then NOT write about it.  
> please note that I'm not very far ahead in the game so forgive any inaccuracies. also, the ending dialogue is lifted straight from what vilkas actually says when you have the amulet of mara on, or so google tells me.

She isn’t considered pretty. Even by her people’s standards, she’s too plain, too forgettable. Her powers, her weapons – those are not forgettable. She wears her hood pulled up high, making sure the cowl covers her face as best it can, and lets her gaze linger, intense. Magic sparks at her hands, and her sword hangs heavy at her side. These things, the mystery, the allure of her persona – these she uses to cultivate desire.

But the dragon at Whiterun dies, and suddenly she is imbued with something foreign and all at once beyond her control. Dovahkiin, they call her, and the mystery surrounding her falls away. Dragonborn, they whisper as they pass her on the streets, and she is laid bare in front of all the people of Skyrim. Never has she felt so exposed before, for now people know her face, her name. Anxiety claws at her insides as people look on her, alternating between awe and fear.

And yet, when she walks into Jorvaskr to join the Companions, the glare that Vilkas sends her way is the one that she cannot place, or understand.

.

Vilkas sees her the moment she walks in, because she walks like no woman he has ever seen before. Her body sways, as if she walks to some arresting melody, and he is sure that even she is unsure of what she is doing. Her eyes sweep over everything and linger, assessing and discarding information quietly. Like all the other elves, her face is harshly lined and her eyes slant upward – but there is something peaceful in her expression that he has never seen before. They whisper in the streets of the Dragonborn, but Elil is nothing like the whispers. She is shyer, respectful when she speaks, and mindful of those that surround her.

Vilkas has never wanted someone quiet as badly, and he glares at her because who is this Dragonborn to intrude on this part of his life? Who is she, carrier of dragon souls, to look at him and make him feel like turning his soul over to her as well?

.

The glare doesn’t ever go away, but it changes into something different. Anywhere she goes, she can feel Vilkas’ gaze heavy on her, and she can’t quite contain the blush that rises to her cheeks. Lucky she’s an elf, she thinks dryly, and lucky that her complexion mostly hides her reaction to him. Because despite his less than warm welcome, she can’t stop _looking_ – she watches as he crosses his arms, muscles bulging; as he gives out sweets to the children of Whiterun when he thinks no one is watching; as he painstakingly reapplies his war paint when it runs.

Aela nudges her at the last one, when they’re all sitting around the table and drying off from the sudden downpour outside. “You should talk to him about it.” She says lowly. “You’re braver than this.”

Elil pauses from where she’s wringing out the ends of her hair. “Not brave enough for this sort of thing.” She says as she thinks of the days when men’s eyes slid right past her, when she wished so badly for someone to look at her and no one ever did. How can she know what Vilkas’ gaze means? He doesn’t like her, doesn’t like how she’s inserted herself into the Companions, and she likes him all the same.

“Oh this is going to end so well.” Aela remarks, crossing her arms and leaning back to smirk.

“Well, I’m glad someone’s enjoying this.” Elil says, resigned, and she glances over at Vilkas again. His eyes shine in the dim firelight and a fierce ache rises in her.

.

Vilkas walks into the dining hall and pauses, his gaze drawn almost automatically to Elil. She’s downing a glass of wine, her slender throat glowing in the pale light. A drop falls out of the glass, and her tongue flicks out to catch it. He feels his pants tightening as she licks her bottom lip.

He abruptly turns around and makes his way back out. He feels a hand on his shoulder and he looks to see his brother.

“Elil is very nice, and smart, and funny.” Farkas says, point-blank. “You couldn’t find better if you tried. Why don’t you stop glaring at her?” Vilkas hears the unspoken command at the end of his brother’s sentence – you could love her, given the chance. Vilkas doesn’t know how to tell his brother that he already does, in his own foolish and cold way.

But the next time he comes out to the yard and sees her practicing with the target dummies, he stops and thinks very carefully about what to say.

“Would you like to spar?” he asks, and it comes out gruff and hostile but Elil turns in surprise and actually considers it. There’s a strange light in her eyes as she looks steadily at Vilkas.

“Yes.” She says simply, and draws her sword. Vilkas moves to match her, and she offers him the faintest smile. It’s a far cry from the smiles she throws out to Aela and Farkas, but to Vilkas it is the most precious thing he has been given.

.

Something has changed in the air. Vilkas, for reasons unknown, has started seeking her out. They spar constantly – so much so that now it’s more like dancing with him. She lunges, he parries; he swings, she blocks; she turns, he spins – suddenly, she is pressed flush against him, their chests heaving and their swords at each other’s necks. She can feel the hard muscle underneath her, can see the sweat pooled in the hollow of his neck. Up close, his eyes are more mesmerizing than ever, and he’s looking at her now, and only at her.

“Yield.” He says, lowly.

“No.” she says back, daring, never breaking eye contact. She feels brave and beautiful, ready to do something reckless. She is Dragonborn, she is destined for greatness – and this, this thing between Vilkas and her, it is something great and she is no longer afraid of it.

The door bangs opens, startling them both and they draw back immediately.

“Elil!” Aela calls. “I need you to – oh. Am I interrupting?” she asks, glancing between the two of them, her eyebrows climbing high up on her forehead.

“No.” Vilkas says stiffly, and he looks at Elil with something indescribable in his eyes before he turns away swiftly. Elil watches him leave, heat coiling low in her belly.

“Well.” Aela says. “You need a moment to reign in your lust, or are you ready to go?”

“It’s not lust.” Elil says absentmindedly, sheathing her sword. She pauses as her words sink in, and she curses her loose mouth. Aela looks positively gleeful, and she opens her mouth, no doubt to taunt Elil, but Elil beats her to it.

“Say a word about this,” she warns, “and I’ll leave you to the dragons.” Aela closes her mouth, but is still smirking. The ache in Elil’s chest grows as she thinks about the man she loves, and how pointless the whole endeavor is.

.

Vilkas is returning back to his bed from a late night assignment, and the hall is completely silent as everyone slumbers, when he hears it – the sound of muffled sobs. He makes his way down the corridor and pauses outside the door from where the noise is coming – it’s the door to Elil’s room. More sobs come from beyond the door, raw and painful, and Vilkas knocks firmly.

A few seconds later, Elil opens the door in soft leggings and a loose overtunic. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and her voice is shaky as she asks, “Vilkas? Is everything all right? Do you need me to go on a quest?”

“No.” Vilkas says, keeping his eyes firmly on her face and trying his hardest not to let them slip to the soft swell of her breasts that he can see through the slightly open top. “I… heard you. Are you alright?” Elil’s eyes widen and she looks away, embarrassed.

“It’s fine.” She says evenly. “Nightmares, but I’m alright now.” Vilkas doubts it, but he doesn’t know how to press the matter. He wants to protect her, to wrap her up in his arms and fight off her demons, but she’s the _Dragonborn_. He doubts she’d let him.

“I get them too.” He says quietly. A blush rises unbidden to his cheeks because he doesn’t usually talk about this. “About the Companions dying – mostly Farkas and Aela.” Elil looks at him, relaxing a little, her expression changing to a more trusting one.

“I dream about Helgen.” She whispers. “About fire. My hands, bound. In my dreams, I’m not Dragonborn – just normal. I can’t help myself, let alone Skyrim.” Vilkas runs a hand through his hair and thinks sorrowfully about the things that Elil has seen.

“Even if you were not Dragonborn,” he says finally, “I know that you would not be helpless.” Elil looks up at him at that, a pleased smile growing on her face. She bites her lip, and Vilkas knows that she will be the death of him, without even knowing what she does to him.

“ _Vilkas_.” She says, “That may be the most powerful thing anyone has ever said to me.” Vilkas smiles briefly at her, unable to help himself.

“Sleep well.” He says to her, and turns to go, but he pauses and turns back around. Maybe it is something about the night, about how silent it is around them, how Elil looks beautiful in the flickering candlelight. Maybe it is the way she’s looking at him, sweet and trusting. Maybe it’s the fire in her eyes. Whatever it is, it makes him braver in asking for what he wants.

“Recently,” he mutters quietly, his eyes falling to her lips, “my nightmares involve something else – not being able to save the ones I love. Farkas dying on my watch, or – or you, taken from me before I can tell you how much I love you.”

.

Elil can’t quite believe the words that Vilkas is saying, but he’s looking at her steadily, something warm and heady in his gaze, and she takes a step forward and throws her arms around his neck, bringing his mouth down to hers. She kisses him with everything she has and he makes a surprised sound before he brings his larger hands up to cradle her face, licking into her mouth. They kiss like they fight, dancing around each other and never yielding, chests heaving as they break apart to catch their breath. Elil feels daring and she brings her fingers up to trace Vilkas’ jaw as he drops his arms to encircle his waist.

“Stay with me.” She whispers. He smiles at her, and it’s dizzyingly bright and beautiful.

“Tonight?” he asks, walking her backwards into her room, never letting go of her. She kicks the door shut behind him.

“As many nights as you are willing to spend with one who loves you.” She answers honestly, staring up at him. He groans and ducks down to kiss her again, this time slower and sweeter.

“That may be a good deal of nights – and days.” He answers, and she meets his gaze, crooking an eyebrow in a challenge.

“Then let it be so.” She says, and he ducks down to nuzzle at the soft skin of her throat. She can feel the smile on his lips as he presses kisses against her neck, and she moans as he opens his mouth and bites, his tongue laving over the spot immediately after.

“Everyone will know,” he murmurs, “that you are _mine_.” His voice is low, husky and rough with desire. She tips her head back invitingly, and he continues to leave dark marks on her neck. She shudders as she imagines walking around with these all day; of people looking at her and knowing what Vilkas has done to her.

.

They continue long into the night, bitten off moans echoing through the small room. They swallow each other’s groans of pleasure through heated kisses, and Elil nearly sets the room on fire when Vilkas finally pushes into her. Vilkas is no better, his voice becoming guttural and animalistic as the wolf in him rears its head.

Elil proudly wears the marks on her neck the next day – and Vilkas wears a matching set, because Elil is no meek mouse in bed. The Companions all grumble and happily exchange bet money. Surprisingly, Farkas wins the betting pool – Elil shakes her head disappointedly at Aela, who good-naturedly cuffs her.

She can still feel Vilkas’ steely gaze on her, but now she understands it to be his unashamed devotion to her. She is thankful for this, because the man may be fairly stiff and cold at first, but he loves her despite her carrying so many secrets with her as the Dragonborn. He waits for her, which is far more than she expected anyone to do. He is a wonderful home to return to, and so, many days after they first tumble together into bed, she has no doubts in her mind when she purchases the amulet and rides back to him.

As soon as she sees him, she runs to him and he catches her around the waist and lifts her up. He kisses her deeply, and she kisses back desperately, hungrily. The heat of his mouth, the press of his body against hers, the strength of his arms around her hips – these are the things she loves to sink into, the things she wants to keep. She thinks of the days when he tells her stories of growing up with the Companions, the way he treats children, his dry and surprising humor, and she knows that she is making the right choice.

So when he finally puts her down and murmurs huskily, “There’s a bed not too far from here that we can use,” she grins at him.

“Not yet.” She says, pressing a hand to her chest to feel the shape of the amulet under her armor. “First, ask me what my new amulet looks like.” Vilkas is whip-smart, and he can put two and two together. He draws back from her, his face open and hopeful.

“An Amulet of Mara?” he asks, “Marriage?” Elil bites her lip, grinning so hard her cheeks hurt, and draws it out from under her clothes.

“Interested, are you?” she asks cheekily, and Vilkas ducks his head, smiling helplessly.

“I am.” He says, and he looks at her, the smile disappearing and his face growing serious. “I’d be glad to stand by your side until the Divines take us, if…if you’ll have me.”

“I will.” She responds, laying a hand over his heart. “Together, then.”

“Together.” He responds, covering her hand and leaning down to give her a slow kiss. Elil smiles into the kiss, giddy at the thought of their life together. Dragons be damned – she has Vilkas’ heart and soul, and that’s the one that truly matters to her.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> fyi: useless fact - Elil is a name I picked up from a Sindarin name generator, which is of course the elvish language from Lord of the Rings. the E has an accent over it, and it's supposed to mean dream female? idk I thought it was cool bc this character is supposed to be a high elf.
> 
>  
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> EDIT: now you can find me on [ tumblr!!! ](http://eversall.tumblr.com/) i know, you're SO excited *sarcasm*


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